In my growing years of conservatism being with people that has joy in so many ways than just one; I have been imaginehow deep my wound on self-respect and respect on others; sometimes I smell like a used undies and sometimes I smell like a pure breeze of a unedited version. But most the time when I use old stuff memories of unlikely childhood comes into my hard-drive. Then I ask myself -redundantly- can it be all connected into one spectrum of my un-realized truth; like the shadow that at times mesmerizes my over-rated self actualization; hummm wait do normal people eat vomit stuff? -see what I mean?
In the literature of a bored writer -aging can be blamed; like a snake its venom is grey; symbolism sporadically intertwined. Although it can be the most lethal antidote from the tough love one can imagine; its ever changing skin can be as deceiving as a branded wallet or a charming piece of shoe; nevertheless its constant instinct of ambivalence can lead to something beyond the discovery of a new set of un-related element of smooth magical trickery.
In my most sad moments; I came to actualize that over-self actualization can be simply a product of addictive thinking; which subconsciously be nothing but simply a brain infused memory related to memories of the past triggered by present emotional catharsis. -Best example of addictive thinking is this phrase.
In conclusion of this boredom self-made thesis problem. I declare its time for a perfect dancing for sweat can be evasive to my post-modern tantrum who cares? It's boring to live alone and it really seriously boring to live forever. PEACE
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